Dixi
by kurgaya
Summary: VVV #2 - For a long time, Renji hadn't realised that his daemon was… different.


**Notes: **Think of this as a character-study interlude :) (Getting into Renji's head was weird).

(Also, apologies if there are any tense mistakes - for all the years I've written automatically in past, my brain has suddenly decided it wants to use present and it was difficult to fix)

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**Dixi  
(I have spoken)**

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For a long time, Renji hadn't realised that his daemon was… different.

For the first two years of life in the Shino Academy, daemons were mostly a minor subject in comparison to teaching hundreds of students (both those off the streets or born into such a world) the ways of the shinigami. As it was daemon biology not to settle until their shinigami had learnt the name of their zanpakuto (and that wasn't a class held until _third year_) it was generally accepted that the shape-shifting creatures and their other halves were to be allowed to develop a bond entirely on their own – without the strict and regiment guidelines that would come from a textbook. 'It was for the best', apparently, and it probably was, though Renji honestly hadn't cared either way – one less class meant one less exam, and why would he complain about that? Yet the downside of having such a practice meant that beyond one's interaction with their own daemon, the aspiring students had little to no contact with anybody else's daemon. Of course, literal, physical contact with a daemon that wasn't your own was a terrible taboo, but if there had even been a set hour a day – an hour _a week_ even – for Renji to comprehend and utilise what was considered _right_ and _wrong_ for a daemon, he was pretty certain – that is, one hundred per cent certain, because he wasn't an idiot – that he would have noticed his dilemma sooner.

It was not the lack of a name to address his daemon by, the vicious looks and snarls it seemed to enjoy, or the predacious wolf-related forms it consistently insisted on using that made Renji's daemon stand out from the thousands of others in the Seireitei. (The name-problem sorted itself out eventually anyway, and though distinctly more picky than some other daemons in what form it took, there had been nothing unusual about its violent nature – unfortunately it was required out in the battlefield, so it wasn't seen to be a negative characteristic anyway). As it was, the sheer, _blinding_ fact that his daemon just never said _anything_ to anyone – _ever_ – was a strange one, if nothing else.

(The grey wolf hadn't even provided his _own name_ – Renji had had to painstakingly list off a hundred dozen names until something had felt significantly _right _to the both of them – an experience he didn't want to repeat).

Cerberus was – and always had been – silent.

Renji didn't know why. He hadn't even known it was exceptionally rare (unique) behaviour for a daemon until his first 'Connecting with Your Daemon' class in his third year, and though he never spoke to another daemon in the room during his time there, the constant bombardment of chatter surrounding him had been astonishing.

Daemons spoke.

Spoke actual words!

To people!

In fluent _Japanese_.

The rest of that class had been spent staring vacantly at the space between his daemon's scruffy head and the entirety of the buzzing classroom. If Cerberus (though nameless at the time) had had any inclination that he was being watched, he hadn't so much as twitched an ear in Renji's direction, instead remaining composed and blank under the scrutiny. Later, when directly asked by the shinigami if it was possible for him to talk – and if he would, if he could, because that would be great – the daemon had simply fixed the awaiting red-head with a firm, emotionless stare before shifting into a Terrier puppy and burying himself under a pile of clothes.

It had been the single most terrifying display of vulnerability Renji had ever seen from his other half – and the only one he would ever see.

At the time, however, he had felt so much hurt, betrayal, and _anger_ - a seemingly endless amount of white hot fury – that the shinigami had hardly paid a thought for his daemon's behaviour. He had vented and raged and sulked; begged for answers; _sneaked into the library_ for answers, but it had all been fruitless.

There was nothing to be said about it.

And for a long time, nothing was ever said.

The curious 'why?' behind Cerberus's silence came later, much later; in fact, it wasn't until that fateful, pivotal moment when Renji had clashed swords with Ichigo Kurosaki for the first time that it really became a significant concern for him.

That wasn't to say that Cerberus's silence hadn't plagued his thoughts before. The daemon was part of his soul – a physical, almost completely separate entity, and stepping away from the fact that what made Cerberus was _Renji_, unrelenting self-isolation was utterly distressing. It was not normal for one thing (but 'not normal' wasn't necessarily a bad thing – Renji wasn't 'normal' because he had dragged himself from the slums of Rukongai. But did he care? No!) but there was also something strictly sinister about his daemon. A daemon that didn't talk was an unnerving sight, especially for Renji who couldn't imagine – did _not_ want to imagine – why Cerberus was holding his silence so effectively, and not everybody reacted well.

To be frank, it freaked Renji out.

And it had never really stopped freaking him out.

It wasn't until Ichigo and his eccentrically foul-mouthed, remarkably outspoken, unforgettable daemon literally crashed into his life that the lieutenant figuratively took a step back and really _looked_ at Cerberus: past the hunter exterior – past what people usually saw – and past what Renji had always wanted to see, and took in the tangled enigma of himself. There wasn't much to see, really, which was distinctly disappointing, but not one to back down from a challenge so early into the race the lieutenant had stubbornly decided to get to the core of his daemon's intrinsic web – or die trying.

As soundless as ever the wolf stared back without a hint of feeling.

"Why?" Renji asked that night – after Byakuya, Ichigo, and (god) _Rukia_ – lying back against the door to his quarters with his bare feet outstretched towards the moonlit gardens of the Sixth Division. An answer was unexpected though remarkably wished for, and some time passed between them without one. A stone statue beside him Cerberus was seldom animated, but Renji would swear till the day he died that the monstrous daemon had eventually twitched towards him at the question.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked again when nothing further seemed to happen, sighing to himself. "I'm not asking you to be like Ikkaku's daemon, or that orange haired kid's we saw – I'd just… like you to say something, you know? You say even less than Captain's stupid leopard and that's just _not right_."

Cerberus didn't react at the pathetic attempt at humour but Zabimaru, not one to miss out on a heart to heart chin-wag, snorted loudly inside his head.

Unsure on what else to say, Renji held his tongue. When the wolf continued to do nothing but watch the empty garden with his wide, amber eyes, the shinigami swore colourfully under his breath and thumped his head against the door. A curl of anger brewed inside of his gut, shrieking at the unfairness of it all, and he doused it with a bubble of shame. No matter what he did Cerberus remained an unmoving, unstoppable force; fiercely loyal and excessively violent. Renji couldn't help but wonder what that said about him, sometimes. A silent, vehement daemon didn't reflect well on his nature, and people from each corner of the Seireitei had whispered to him – about him – questioning Cerberus's unwillingness to talk.

Yet whether it was actually unwillingness to talk or an unfortunate incapability, Renji didn't know.

He didn't know what was worse.

"Are we really that different?" he mused aloud, closing his eyes. "Is there nothing you could bring yourself to talk to me about?"

A faint wave of amusement (and _something else_, something identifiable) washed over Renji, as smooth and effortless as the connection he had with his zanpakuto. Simply taking it to be just that - for what else would it be other than his zanpakuto laughing at him? - he thought nothing of it and rolled onto his side, attempting to get comfortable. It would not be the first time, after all, that Zabimaru had taken pleasure in his stupidity, and certainly wouldn't be the last.

.

.

.

.

.

Long after Renji dozed off, Cerberus lay down his head and started to hum.

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**End Notes**: Thanks for reading!


End file.
